Jesus is coming
- Joseph Wiegand Bruss
- Jun 17
- 1 min read
Updated: Sep 20
A short story based on a sign. Originally published November 2023
Jesus is coming.
The phrase always sent a shiver down my spine. While I didn't adhere to the Christian tenet of Jesus, there was something undeniably unsettling about the idea of an ominous presence lurking behind those words.
Posters adorned the walls, bearing eerie proclamations and similar phrases, their very presence casting a shadow of trepidation over congregation. I scoffed at the one that commanded the past churchgoers to repent. It was a mockery, a demand for a contrition not meant for humans. Our essence never lay in perfection; we were, after all, defined by our fallibility.
My journey deeper into the church's shadowy depths was driven by curiosity, a thirst for the oppressive darkness, where long-forgotten secrets and sacred texts were said to be buried. These colossal and foreboding edifices always disquieted me, their grandeur marred by an unsettling beauty. The imagery and inscriptions were meant to be sacred, ethereal, but to my eyes, they were nothing but sources of disquiet. I had once been present, the haunting resonance of a choir's ethereal song and the eerie melodies from the grand organs that sent shivers down my spine.
As I ventured further into the sacred domain, another poster with the dread-inducing warning of Jesus' arrival compelled me to acknowledge that I was not alone. An intangible presence watched me with its unseen eyes. Whether it was God, Jesus, the dead, or someone else lingering, it didn't stop me just yet.
I recalled an ominous proclamation I'd heard on the street once. It echoed the same foreboding sentiment. Jesus would come, but not with salvation. He'd come with judgement. I always understood why Christians were terrified of their Lord.
In the bowels of the church, I found two doors. One led to private chambers bereft of anything notable, save for shelves once laden with books, now obscured by a veil of dust.The second door, heavy and uninviting, bore the weight of time's passage. It creaked open with great effort, revealing a dark descent.
The unlit stairs beckoned me like an unholy revelation. I was met with an emptiness that seemed to be everything and nothing at once. A vast cellar, void of any wine. A crypt where dust and cobwebs clung to tombs that lined the corridors, holding the forgotten vessels of earthly remains.
Though it wasn't the coffins that held my fascination; at the end of the decrepit corridor, a book stand beckoned, bathed in an otherworldly radiance. Inexplicably aglow. An unseen force urged me to behold its forbidden contents. The book was inscribed with unfamiliar symbols, none of them aligning with any human languages. My hand hovered over the pages, and as I kept flipping through the book, alien imagery danced across the parchment, eluding comprehension. Paranoia clawed at the edges of my consciousness as the feeling of being pursued intensified. Would I dare? Would I dare steal from the church? Such an irresistible call to transgress the boundaries of faith and the certainty that no soul would enter this forsaken place for some time emboldened me. With trembling hands, I slipped the enigmatic tome beneath my jacket, clutching it tightly.
As I sought further clues about the book around me, I heard an unsettling creak behind me. I pivoted. My heart racing. Nothing. The door hadn't moved an inch either. I sighed. A trick of my own mind. Or perhaps I'd stepped on a weak spot of the floorboards. Either way, it was time to get out.
I made my way back towards the stairs and...Had the tomb's lid always been open? Must've been. I approached another tomb. Nothing. Until a dreadful sound - the grinding of stone against stone - erupted behind me. I saw the lid of another tomb raising itself from within, a macabre figure emerging from the depths.
I fled up the stairs, slamming the heavy door behind me through a surge of adrenaline. The church, filled with portents of His impending arrival, flashed before my eyes as I reached the sanctuary of the outside world.
Jesus was coming. And you better be running.


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